151901Whose frothie mouth bepainted all with red,

902Like milke, & blood, being mingled both togither,

903A second feare through all her sinewes spred,

904Which madly hurries her, she knowes not whither,

905 This way she runs, and now she will no further,

906 But backe retires, to rate the boare for murther.

152907A thousand spleenes beare her a thousand wayes,

908She treads the path, that she vntreads againe;

909Her more then hast, is mated with delayes,

910Like the proceedings of a drunken braine,

911 Full of respects, yet naught at all respecting,

912 In hand with all things, naught at all effecting.

153913Here kenneld in a brake, she finds a hound,

914And askes the wearie caitiffe for his maister,

915And there another licking of his wound,

916Gainst venimd sores, the onely soueraigne plaister.

917 And here she meets another, sadly skowling,

918 To whom she speaks, & he replies with howling.

154919When he hath ceast his ill resounding noise,

920Another flapmouthd mourner, blacke, and grim,

921Against the welkin, volies out his voyce,

922Another, and another, answer him,

923 Clapping their proud tailes to the ground below,

924 Shaking their scratcht-eares, bleeding as they go.

155925Looke how, the worlds poore people are amazed,

926At apparitions, signes, and prodigies,

927Whereon with feareful eyes, they long haue gazed,

928Infusing them with dreadfull prophecies;

929 So she at these sad signes, drawes vp her breath,

930 And sighing it againe, exclaimes on death.